


The War for the Last Dovahkiin

by Goddess_Of_Empathy



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Add more tags when I think of them because I'm dumb, Daedric Artifacts, Daedric Princes, Dovahkiin - Freeform, Long?? Maybe??, Multi, Other, The last dragonborn - Freeform, This is going to be a shit show, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2020-07-30 09:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_Of_Empathy/pseuds/Goddess_Of_Empathy
Summary: I just left a civil war to join an eternal one… She thought to herself, trying to keep her demeanor as she carefully strode past the vast and cold gates, maybe this wasn't such a smart idea…The Dragonborn was a heavy title to boast, even heavier knowing she was the last. But carry it she did. Even past The Gates of Oblivion when she passed from the mortal realm and left the war behind. Well. One war behind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know a few of the Princes I bring up didn't technically show in Skyrim, if got mentioned at all, but I'm using my creative liberty because I'm kinda sad they didn't.

It wasn't all that uncommon for mortals to go about seeking out more than one Daedric Prince at a time; be it for their appraisal and potential Championship, their abundance of gifts, their abilities or just in seek of knowledge they were not quite gifted in. Frugal as mortals were, the Princes had as such made many pacts betwixt each other for events such as this. Sanguine was more than happy to share his Champions; Sheogorath too was more than pleased to spread his fun and madness around. Clavicus was the third and final to their trio, being the Daedric Prince of Trades, it only made sense he would be trading anything he could, including whatever champion he had at the time. A pact made eons ago that the three would regularly converse over from millennia to millennia so the terms could be updated with every passing change in the societal norms of the mortal world.

The others weren't always as pleased to share… you'd come hard pressed to find someone like Boethiah or Molag Bal sharing their Champion; they'd sooner claim their soul early and search for one anew. Especially if their Champion had suddenly started taking an interest in their opponent. Others like Peryite or Hermeus Mora didn't quite care for Champions. Occasionally they'd require one but it wasn't entirely necessary for them to have one at every moment. They had their own reasons for their actions; a champion wasn't always one of them.

So as such, you'd find it little a surprise when word spread that Molag Bal's recent Champion to date had finally passed, the name was sought after. Most to ensure they didn't share the same name as their own; dealing a shared Champion with the Prince of Rape was never fun. At least, not to anyone but Sheogorath. Considering the idea of it was sheer madness to everyone except him. But when the word 'Dovahkiin' finally caught onto the winds and was swept far outside Cold Harbour and into the other realms of Oblivion.. Well, that's when things started to become more interesting.

_A Bosmer? No, no. Imperial. She's Imperial. I was to believe she was Dunmeri. You fools, she's Altmeri._ Arguments started over borders that had before been ignored. One after another, the Princes conversed between each other to find out that they did indeed share the same Champion.. This coming millennia's Dragonborn. Sanguine? She walked right into Oblivion carrying his rose in her dominant hand. Clavicus? Mask attached to her hip. Sheogorath? His staff jangled lightly on the opposite hip, Malacath's war hammer Volendrung dwindled beside Meridia's sword Dawnbreaker on her back… even Peryite's Spellbreaker covered a few other gifts they couldn't quite link to any other Prince in particular from one glance. Somehow the woman had managed to gain such favour as to get two gifts from Hircine, and he got more than a few disapproving glances when they noted as such.

She had managed to gather every gift available to her as she crossed Tamriel in her travels; black books, swords, battle weaponry, staves, jewels, armour, it never seemed to end. And since the Princes barely ever conversed, this had gone unchecked until she had finally given out in battle and her soul was to be claimed..

Not one eye upon her as she stepped passed the gates of Oblivion was entirely pleased to see her.

_I just left a civil war to join an eternal one…_ She thought to herself, trying to keep her demeanor as she carefully strode past the vast and cold gates, _maybe this wasn't such a smart idea… _

She kept her head up, proud and deceptive woman she was, not ready to show her internal fear to them, even if she knew they were already aware of its’ presence. Gazing into the glowing angry eyes of several towering Daedric Princes was a feat many a mortal would not be able to accomplish; but this wasn’t her first time to do so. She’d come across them all within her lifetime, most through specters, but a few in person, given that lucky opportunity. She glanced around the small gathering, looking from one set of eyes to another, for one pair in particular. When she spotted the oh so darkened yet ever sly and seductive glistening eyes of her cheeky master, she grinned a little. The only one she truly wanted to see as she graced Oblivion with her soul. After all, your first Prince will always hold a special place within your soul.

“... I knew you’d come to collect me.” She called. The echo of her words carried through the thick air of the Daedra realm, with some hesitance, it reached the crowd. It wasn’t needed; she was but a few feet from them, and they could hear her just fine, but her excitement to see him got the better of her and her prideful self.

“As if I wouldn’t…” His voice was harsh, but at the same time smooth, just like the mead he revelled with, “I had half expected it to be fake… I mean, _you? **Dead?**_ I couldn’t believe it when I first heard it…” His words slurred, but she didn’t mind. He was all the more entertaining for it.

“I’ll admit, I had considered staying..” She cooed as she finally stepped in front of him, looking up at his tall and well built body, smiling a little, “... I just couldn’t wait to see you again.”

A low, distinctively aggressive rumbling shook the ground below her and interrupted her reunion; a cold, soul shrinking wind accompanied the growl it came from, sweeping through her body, reaching into the depths within her, encasing her soul like claws sharp as ebony…

“... And where do _**we**_ factor into this little… Daydream you’ve spun for yourself, you traitorous Mortal…?” The voice fit the owner perfectly; Profound.. broken.. dangerous. Molag Bal never ceased his torment. Even in the best of moods. He swept his arms from his sides, giving a wide and slow motion, gesturing to the rest of the Princes, most of which were all still unamused by this ruse she was holding up, as he took a lumbering step forward..

“.... You belong to **_all_** of us.. And we have **_All_ **come to collect what is rightfully ours…” His empty, emotionless eyes glared down at her, his mouth grimacing into a dark scowl, “.... _**Some**_ more than others.”

The Dovahkiin blinked, rightly shocked. She couldn’t believe what she just heard, which in itself, considering all she had experienced in her life, was rare. Neither could the other Princes it seemed, as her shock was shared amongst those of them that could give facial expressions, or something resembling them. They started to become vocal now, slow at first, one at a time, then the voices grew into ruptures of angered rage and saddened betrayal, all fighting to be heard amongst and over one another; It was obvious the tension was thread thin and they had been waiting for the chance to finally voice their outcries.. She covered her ears a little, squinting in pain as the Princes started to fight amongst one another, not quite to the point of violence yet, but clearly gaining speed towards that point very quickly. Molal Bal, however, remained focused on her, and never took his sight off of her; she was his prize and he had come to collect. She would be leaving with him, no matter who stood in his way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "... I think you're right." She agreed. 
> 
> He froze. He wasn't sure he had heard her right, but her words were clear as glass. He slowly turned back to face her once more, his face a strange contortion of confusion he wasn't used to wearing. The power had shifted, and it now sat in her favour. And he didn't like it.

Despite his eerily calm demeanor and fierce determination to claim her as his own, his face eventually twisted into a deep glower due to the uproar his brethren had raised behind him. He took a moment of thought, before he slowly raised one of his disfigured hoof-like feet and slammed it back down into the ground with savage, unbridled force, accompanied by an ear splitting roar. Again, the ground below her shook with such a tremendous show of power, his brooding snarl ringing out over the others loud enough to give their squabbling a moment of pause. He turned his gaze back down to her after he had managed to quiet the petty fighting amongst his peers..

“Okay, look, if I could just say a few things before you all go mental… _Again_ -” 

The towering Prince tilted his head upwards, the bones under his sickeningly taut skin cracking and groaning under the movement, his gleaming eyes sharply watching her as she moved. The Dovahkiin watched him back with all the same care, refusing to show him of all of them her fears, but paused when she noted the curiosity he showed her, even behind the furious hatred burning within him. She tilted her head in return, playful and teasing, trying her best to find whatever good of the situation she could with his spotlight on her, but only eliciting a grunt from the Prince before he turned his grotesque muzzle up at her in distaste.

“Give me one sole reason I should allow you _ **any** _ such privilege, after learning of this betrayal you believe you can pry yourself free of?” He bellowed, "What makes you think you're given **_any_ ** such right to speak now? Being the cause of all this, I would like to believe you would **_know_ ** when to keep your mouth firmly _ ** shut** _." His tail thumped the ground for unneeded emphasis on his returned fury. 

"... _My_ soul..?" She joked. It was lost on him as all he returned to her for her jest was a large cloud of hot, humid breath as he let out another low growl. Unamused. 

"Okay… I'll try again.." she said calmly, "What exactly _do_ you have in mind…?" She asked, "Do _any_ of you actually **_have_ **a thought on what you're going to do with me?"

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as the Princes once again unleashed their voices into a vocal collection of rage against one another, a few particular comments directed at her.

But His stare was unwavering as he contemplated her questions, afterwards leaning back and grunting slightly.

"... I've said my peace.. But if you've the mind to ask such ridiculous questions of me, I see it fit to answer in kind; I fully intend to harvest your soul. It belongs to me. Put quite bluntly, you are _**M**__**y** _ Champion and should be mine alone. It was foolish of you to assume the mantle of any other Prince's Championship if you had laid claim to be mine. But I will accept responsibility of the fact that I should have remained in contact with you more thoroughly than just letting you run rampant.. Had I done so, this may never have come to pass. Finally, I think it even more foolish of them to think they would ever be able to pry your soul from my grasp. But if they think themselves capable.. Let them try."

The Princes settled into a thick, uncomfortable silence. A few donned insulted faces, others unfazed by his words, the rest bearing cocky expressions of acceptance to this challenge he presented them. He knew as well as her that many of them were seeking any reason whatsoever to start a brawl, even if Molag Bal himself was the reason behind it. And he was starting to itch for an opening to hit a few of them himself. For the first time since she had entered Oblivion, he took his gaze off of her and looked around at the other Princes. For Them, her existence there was a mere flicker in time. For her, it was an eternity. 

"... I think you're right." She agreed. 

He froze. He wasn't sure he had heard her right, but her words were clear as glass. He slowly turned back to face her once more, his face a strange contortion of confusion he wasn't used to wearing. The power had shifted, and it now sat in her favour. And he didn't like it. 

"... ** _What?_ ** _"_ His mouth dribbled the word out as he stood there, dumbfounded, still unsure of himself, or herself. 

"... Your words hold merit." She spoke again, with a little more volume and confidence now.

_"I heard you." _ He snarled, eyelids lowering as his suspicion grew, _ "But I do not _ ** _believe_ ** _ you." _

She looked up at him as he loomed over her, taking a light step forward, his gaze shifting all over her, looking for some point of interest, a shift in pose, a slight of hand, something, _ anything_, to give him reason to believe his own words. But just as he was unsure she had spoken hers, he was unsure if he could believe his. And his anger only grew hand in hand with his uncertainty the longer this continued.

He stood upright, tilting his muzzle up at her in his usual fashion. "You showed no interest in stepping forward before to provide an opinion on serving a particular Prince… not that it would have mattered or made a difference in wake of recent events.." He spoke slowly, shifting from one side to another in angered contemplation, "... Why the voice of it now…?"

It took little time for the Dovahkiin to take note of his discomfort, and she knew that, even if it would get her killed twice, if he could make that a reality, she wasn't going to pass up the chance she'd arranged for herself. 

"I don't know if you were paying attention.. That seems to be difficult for you right now, My Lord, but… I _ do _have a preference.." she waved a hand in Sanguine's general direction. At his reference, Sanguine attempted a smile, however in his seemingly never-ending drunken stupor, he could only manage a giddy smirk; He was pleased all the same, and his smirk was genuine. For all that it could be.

Molag Bal let out a dismissive grunt, barely making the effort to roll his eyes in his direction. "That _ thing _ hardly counts for a Prince… How he even managed to attain such a title is beyond even Mora's mental capacity… and it ** _greatly _ **exceeds Sanguine's own." Hermaeus Mora, who had previously being paying very little attention to the entire scene unfolding before them, let out a slight gurgle. A few of their eyes rolled in their body a bit, blinking inconsistently. 

"I digress.." Molag Bal continued, "To what is it that you claim to agree with? I am still unsure as to what you mean when you say as such."

"I think they **_should_** fight you for it." She responded, quite pleased with herself and her little plan. A few of the Princes, as before, let out small agreements under their breaths, along with a few curses sent Molag Bal's way. He violently threw his head back around to scowl at them, and their murmurs ceased for the time being. "What other plan do you all have...? It's the obvious conclusion to this problem. I've fought for all of you. If you all think yourselves entitled to my soul, you're _all_ right in some sense; you **_are_**. But I can't possibly leave here with all of you."

After a period of yet more uncomfortable silence that seemed to be one of the themes of this little get together, Mora came forward, metaphorically, as they let out another repugnant gurgle.

"... Not quite.." they mused, "... We are... _Able_... To dissstribute souls... In conditions... Ssssuch as this.." they garbled, "... It iss.. _rare_... But not uncommon... Do not think yourssself .. the first mortal to try thisss.. Dragonborn.." 

She took a moment to process what they meant. And when it sunk in, her cocky expression sunk with it. If there was something more frightening than one Daedric Prince having a Dragonborn soul, it was the idea of them all taking a piece of it, and doing as they please with it as it lost its ability to bicker and bargain with them. Her fears had come to fruition. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took some time, I apologize but yaaaay here it is! Slow going but I'm getting there.


	3. Update: We're still alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick Update on continuing in the future

So oh my goodness, it's been more than a year since I posted on here. I've had a lot happen in between that time that required my attention, and I feel real bad I left this the way I did. But I'm gonna come back to it and continue from where I left off. I don't entirely remember what my original plan was for this little story, but I'm gonna just go ahead and see where it leads me all the same. Sorry for the time gap </3 


End file.
